


punishment

by doxian



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Crying, Dom/sub Undertones, Kink Meme, M/M, Masochism, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 05:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15285102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doxian/pseuds/doxian
Summary: "Or what, you'll spank me?" Akira had said, and that had been that.





	punishment

**Author's Note:**

> written for [this prompt](https://personakinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/993.html?thread=219617#cmt219617) at the Persona kink meme: I want Iwai to bend Akira over and spank him hard enough that he cries. Bonus points for aftercare.

"Or what, you'll spank me?" Akira had said, and that had been that.

Iwai had been grumbling about Akira not finishing his tasks at the shop for the day, but at _that_ Iwai had to laugh — that surprised laugh that always feels as though it's being yanked out of him whenever Akira says or does anything particularly audacious, which is often. His response was to shove Akira against the wall of the back room, grunt "great suggestion, I just might". As if he wasn't playing right into the kid's hands with that reaction, as if he didn't know Akira could've easily dodged out of his grasp if he really wanted to. Iwai knows Akira well enough now to recognize that a wiry physique and cat-like reflexes lie beneath Akira's unassuming appearance. He's gotten to know both Akira and Akira's body pretty well by now. 

" _Ah._ " A gasp, a wriggle. He's doing good, to be honest. Iwai hasn't smacked him too many times yet, but he hadn't been holding back, either, quickly building up to harder hits that had plenty of strength behind them after the initial few warm-up spanks. 

"Get up," Iwai says. Akira stops squirming and gets up from where he was sprawled across Iwai's lap. But not before pausing, first, like he's reluctant. 

"That's it?" he asks.

Iwai scoffs loudly, smirks around the lollipop in his mouth. 

"You really think I'd let you off that easy? Get your pants off." 

Akira's face is impassive but Iwai notices him swallow, notices the pink that's beginning to color his cheeks. He steps out of his shoes. Then he unbuckles his belt, pops the button on his school uniform pants, and pushes them down along with his underwear. He's half hard already. 

He drapes his clothes over a chair, settles back over Iwai's knee. Iwai smoothes his hand over Akira's ass before resuming, observing how it's almost as pink as Akira's face. 

But Iwai can do better than this. 

Without warning, he flattens his palm and smacks Akira again, aiming right at his sit spot. Akira gasps louder, but Iwai doesn't give him any time to recover, landing one hit after another, making sure to equally cover Akira's skin. It's mesmerizing, the way Akira's ass bounces after every hit, the way the shade of it deepens to red. Every time Akira's flesh ripples under the impact of Iwai's hand, Akira lets out an involuntary noise, squirms like he's trying to escape the pain. The more Iwai strikes him the louder the noises get and the more desperate the squirming becomes. 

Finally, Iwai stops, giving Akira some respite. Now that the room is silent, Akira's ragged breathing sounds loud, choppy. Iwai runs his hand over the burning red flesh again and Akira _whimpers_ , but he's also fully hard, and he grinds his dick into Iwai's lap in tiny, furtive motions. 

"Had enough?" Iwai asks, squeezing one cheek. It feels hot in his hand. 

Akira hisses, but when he answers his voice is miraculously under control. Iwai can hear the effort it takes, though, the strain, if he listens close enough. 

"Not for a second. Keep going." 

"...You asked for it." 

He doesn't put as much power behind the hits, but he knows the slow build of pain must be getting to the kid. He didn't ask Akira to count, this time, but he's been keeping mental track of the number and they were well into the thirties when he'd given Akira that break. By now Akira must be feeling raw, strung out.

Iwai aims a few of the hits at Akira's thighs, but he still concentrates most of them on his ass. Akira starts rocking against him in earnest, leaving wet patches of precome on Iwai's jeans, but Iwai doesn't berate him for it. He's hard himself, too, his pants growing increasingly tight and uncomfortable. Eventually, Akira throws a hand back, trying to shield himself from the onslaught, but Iwai just shrugs and grabs the hand with his own, pinning it to the small of Akira's back. If Akira really wanted him to stop, he would've safe worded out, so Iwai keeps going. 

Akira is making sounds after every hit, now. Wrecked, broken moans and cries. Iwai pinning Akira's hand turns into holding it in his own, squeezing back in reassurance as Akira clutches at him. After one particularly well-aimed hit across both cheeks, Akira actually _screams_ , a shudder running through his body, and Iwai stops. 

He pulls Akira up to sit on his lap instead of lie across it, and Akira flinches as his tender flesh comes into contact with the rough fabric of Iwai's jeans. 

The kid is a mess. Now that Iwai can see Akira's face, it's evident that somewhere down the line Akira had started to cry, because he's teary-eyed and shaking with silent sobs. He scrubs away his tears with the heel of his palm. 

Iwai gently plucks Akira's glasses off his face and hands him a tissue. Akira blows his nose — a wet, decidedly un-sexy noise. His nose and eyes are red, too. Iwai wants to kiss him, soft and slow. He wants to card his fingers through Akira's messy hair, take Akira's cock into his mouth and spoil him with lips and tongue until he comes. 

But Akira is giving him a smoldering look through his still-dewy lashes and Iwai has a feeling he might not be ready for the roughness to stop, yet. So he grabs Akira's dick instead. 

He instantly knows that he made the right decision, if Akira's long, indulgent moan is anything to go by. His dick is slippery with precome, but Iwai doesn't let his grip falter, squeezing hard. 

"What's this?"

"Oh no," Akira says, shifting in Iwai's lap, not sounding sorry at all. "It appears I've gotten hard during my punishment." 

He and Akira had roleplayed a couple of times. Akira was a brilliant actor. Iwai, not so much. Their attempts usually ended with Akira laughing at him.

Iwai keeps this fact in mind as he closes his hand around Akira's erection, squeezing so tight he imagines that it's almost painful. Painful enough that a real wince cracks Akira's faux-on-purpose penitent expression. 

Suddenly struck with inspiration, Iwai removes his hand.

"Show me," he says. 

"Hm?" Akira looks at him questioningly.

"If ya like getting smacked so much, show me," Iwai repeats, nudging Akira off his lap to the floor with a single firm push. Akira reacts quickly enough to brace himself as he falls to the floor. 

Catlike reflexes. 

"Touch yourself." 

Akira's expression gives way to what looks like a smirk. Yep — it might be on the subdued side, but that's definitely a smirk. 

"Alright."

Iwai is expecting him to sit on his haunches and start stroking himself off, but instead he turns around so that he has his back to Iwai, stretches out so that he's face down, ass up. 

Iwai swallows. Takes in the arch of Akira's back, the redness emblazoned across his ass like a brand. It's a deeper red at his sit spots, like blood vessels have broken. It'll probably turn purple with bruising later.

Akira settles onto his forearms, somehow managing to make his movements luxurious even on the dusty floor of the shop's back room. 

"Do you have anything? Even _you're_ not cruel enough to make me go in dry." 

And — the little brat — he spreads his legs, reaches behind himself to pull his asscheeks apart. His hole is soft pink and clenching around nothing.

Iwai presses his hand against his crotch in a brief, perfunctory motion. It barely helps relieve the ache, just makes him want to fuck Akira more urgently than he does already.

He fishes a packet of lube from his pocket — he's gotten into the habit of keeping them on him because fucking Akira in the shop after hours is becoming more and more of a habit lately — and tosses it so that it's within Akira's reach. Akira's "cruel" comment is a gently mocking one — it's the opposite that's true, and both of them know it. That Iwai is so quick to indulge Akira's sexual whims with him barely even having to ask is just one of his many tells. 

"Thank you."

Akira braces himself on one forearm while his other hand reappears between his legs, his fingers slicked up. Iwai can't hold back his grunt of satisfaction once Akira slides a finger into himself, the noise mingling with Akira's moan.

The temptation to just take his cock out of his jeans grows stronger, but unlike the kid, Iwai possesses more than a modicum of self-restraint. He watches as Akira pumps his finger in and out of himself, watches as he pushes another inside, listens to the slick sounds of Akira's digits working and to his increasingly desperate noises. 

But then Akira's back bows prettily and all of a sudden watching isn't enough anymore — Iwai has to touch.

 

* * *

 

Akira makes sure to moan a little too loudly on his next thrust, listening carefully for any reaction from Iwai. Sure, fingering himself feels good, but it doesn't feel _that_ good. Especially given the angle he has to curl his fingers in this position, and even then he can't get them in all that deep. 

He's just about to flip over — it'd be nice to see Iwai as well as hear him, too — but before he can move he feels a hand on his sore butt. 

He bites his lip, fidgets as the small point of contact strokes the soreness back into a burn. Iwai leans over, pressing his front to Akira's back, and retrieves the lube from where Akira had abandoned it earlier.

"How do I put up with you," Iwai all but growls against Akira's ear, kissing the nape of his neck on his retreat. Akira shivers pleasantly in response. 

"You — _ah!_ — asked me to do this," he shoots back, crying out as Iwai gives his ass a rough squeeze. His instinctive reaction is to move, but his body seems torn between lurching away from Iwai and pushing back into his hands for more pain. 

"You know what, you're right," Iwai acquiesces. He takes his hand away. Akira is disappointed — until Iwai brings the hand back down again in a light swat. Not nearly as hard as he'd been going before, but still enough to make Akira yelp. 

"Keep goin', then." 

Akira keeps going, hyperaware of Iwai, now, his nerves alight with anticipation of what he might do next. 

"Tch. You're not doin' a very good job. What happened to all that enthusiasm from before?" And before Akira can snark something back in reply, he feels another lube-slick finger cold against his hole, pushing in alongside his own. Iwai's finger. Thick, rough, and reaching oh so nice and deep.

He puts his face into the crook of his elbow and groans.

"What? I didn't tell you to stop."

Akira starts moving again. Iwai adds a second finger of his own. Akira's motions are weak, unfocused — he's distracted by the feeling of four digits stretching him open, by Iwai's solid presence between his legs preventing him from closing them. Iwai is plunging his fingers in and out of Akira like he can't resist, filling the room with the slick squelching noises of lube coating his walls. 

All too soon, Iwai takes his hand away. Akira almost whines at the loss. He hasn't touched his dick all this time, and precome is beading at the tip, threatening to dribble onto the floor. 

He’s about to complain when he hears the unmistakable jangle of a belt buckle. He removes his fingers in a rush. There's the ripping sound of another lube packet being opened. Akira bites his lip, pushes his hips back impatiently. 

Iwai chuckles behind him. 

"Calm down." 

Then there's Iwai's hand on his hip, Iwai's cock brushing against his skin. Akira fidgets.

"You're moving too slow--" 

Akira gets another smack on his ass for that, the _crack_ of Iwai's palm against his flesh echoing around the room. Akira cries out as his already oversensitive skin lights up, but the surprised sound swiftly morphs into a moan when the head of Iwai's dick kisses Akira's asshole. This time, Iwai pushes forwards at the same time that Akira pushes back, and his cock pops inside in a sweet release of pressure. 

" _Please_ , yes, hurry up, get in me--" 

"I should gag you next time," Iwai grumbles, but Akira knows it's an empty threat, that Iwai enjoys it when Akira mouths off like this. 

But even as Akira urges him to go faster, Iwai takes his time. He grips hard at Akira's hips, shifting forwards and back in minute thrusts, sinking deeper into Akira with every movement. Eventually, _finally_ , Iwai is inside him up to the hilt, hips bumping against Akira's ass as he bottoms out. The pain of Akira's throbbing skin combined with the pleasure of Iwai's thick cock spreading and holding him open has Akira panting weakly against the floor, and they've barely even started. 

"Move," Iwai orders. He digs his nails into Akira's hip, into the meat of Akira's ass until Akira's eyes water. 

Obediently, Akira raises himself up so that he's on his hands and knees, impaling himself back on Iwai's cock again and again. Iwai is motionless, for a while, but soon he can't help but meet Akira halfway on every thrust, burying himself between Akira's cheeks, splitting him open. Akira knows he's going to be sore, later, but for now he savors the stretch, the feeling of his ass being stuffed full. 

It's not long until Iwai's thrusts turn erratic, faster and harder than Akira keep up with, and he gives up trying, allowing the front of his body to fall forwards, letting Iwai pound him relentlessly. Iwai reaches down to hold him there, grabbing Akira by the hair and grinding his cheek into the floor. His other hand wraps around Akira's cock, all warm, rough, calloused skin. He starts stroking Akira at the same time as he pushes against a place inside Akira that sends electricity sparking up his spine, and Akira swears he whites out for a moment, coming hard with Iwai's name on his lips.

He regains consciousness laying flat in a puddle of his own come with Iwai still moving inside him. After a few more thrusts, he seizes and releases inside Akira in a series of hot spurts. 

Akira takes a few moments to piece himself together. Eventually, he sits up, wiping drool and dirt away from his cheek with his hand and wincing as his ass meets the hard floor, sore in more ways than one, now.

Iwai is also on the floor, jeans around his knees, looking like he just got hit by a train. Akira crawls across the short distance between them so he can pour himself into Iwai's lap. 

"Hey." 

"Hey," Iwai wheezes. "You're getting jizz on my leg."

He is; he can feel it leaking out of him. 

"Who put it there in the first place, hm?" Akira says, casually looping his arms around Iwai's neck.

Iwai just huffs a sigh. "I'm getting too old for this."

"Doesn't look like that from where I'm sitting." He presses a kiss against Iwai's jaw. Even though he's too tired and achy to want to go again so soon, this closeness is always nice.

Iwai cups Akira's face so that he can bring their mouths together into a proper kiss, slow and sweet. When they break apart, he wraps his arms around Akira, pulling him up against the solid warmth of his chest.

"You alright?" He brushes a lock of sweaty hair back from Akira's forehead with a touch as gentle as he was harsh just a few minutes ago. "We got a li'l rough at the end, there." 

Akira hums contentedly. 

"Fine. Good. If a little messy." 

"Whose fault is that?" 

"You're not going to leave me like this, are you?" Akira ignores him, playfully shoving at Iwai's shoulders. "It's a good thing you have a shower back here." 

Iwai gives him a pointed look. "I can't move unless you get up." 

"You want me to _walk_ there? After such rough treatment?" Akira says, voice deadpan, and he pouts in Iwai's direction, puffing out his cheeks. "Meanie." 

Iwai sighs again, one of many in such a short period of time. "You're impossible." 

He gathers Akira in his arms without complaint, though, standing up and kicking his pants the rest of the way off. 

"You love it," Akira says, kissing him again as Iwai carries him bridal-style to the bathroom, just a few steps away.


End file.
